It sounded like Jeff.
“No,” she lied.
“What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Jessica. Jessica James.”
JJ snorted a laugh.
“Molly, I need you to hang up the phone and stand up.”
“I’ll call you back, Sebastian. I love you. I’ll be home soon.”
The call ended, and Baz stopped moving. He stared at her from across the room. She was about to go to him when her phone rang.
“Yeah,” she answered, putting it on speaker.
“Hey, JJ. It’s Reese.”
“We heard. Did they get Sonny, too?”
“Not yet. Brantley went after him on foot. Deputy Downs is going after them.”
JJ sighed in relief.
“They’ll get him.”
“Call me when they do, please.”
“I will.”
He ended the call, and JJ urged Baz over to her. She wasn’t sure she could trust her legs to hold her upright. When he sat down beside her, she leaned into him, grateful that his arms came around her.
“It’s almost over,” she whispered.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
She knew he wasn’t going to breathe easier until they were both in custody. For now, JJ was content knowing it was only a matter of time.
If she knew anything about Brantley, he wasn’t going to stop until he got his man.
***
The kid was fast. Too damn fast. His long, lanky legs ate up the ground, forcing Brantley to put on the speed as he took off after him. As his luck would have it, Sonny didn’t head north toward the safer neighborhood. He went south, which involved crossing four lanes of highway, the railroad tracks, a steep gravel embankment, and then back up the other side.
Brantley made a mental note to tell Reesethiswas the reason he didn’t wear boots and jeans to work. If he had, he would’ve skidded across all that asphalt and likely face-planted into the gravel. He had traction on his side, but again, Sonny was fast.
The good news was Sonny was wearing a white T-shirt, so he wasn’t difficult to track. Even when he darted down the first residential street they came to, he was still visible. That shirt acted like a beacon in the night.
Brantley relied on his training, keeping his breathing steady as he ran full-out, chasing the kid through yards, between parked cars. He lost him briefly when Sonny detoured behind one of the houses that didn’t have a fenced yard. From between the houses, Brantley could tell the neighbor behind him did, which meant Sonny had to come out on the other side.
“Sonny, stop!” Brantley shouted when the kid came flying out from the side of the house.
Sonny didn’t slow, but Brantley did when he stumbled, his foot landing in a perfectly placed hole. He grunted from the pain that shot through his leg. If he broke his fucking ankle three weeks before his wedding, Reese was going to kick his ass.
“Not broken,” he told himself, as though that would make it so.
After a few steps, the pain subsided, confirming that the damn thing wasn’t broken. Sprained, maybe, but it wasn’t bad enough to slow him down.
